


Mage-dar

by ConstancePenman



Series: Apostates Anonymous [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dont succomb to peer pressure kids, Donut is a force mage, Frozen cinnamon rolls, They were in an ice bucket okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstancePenman/pseuds/ConstancePenman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grif is certainly NOT an apostate, and even if he were, he definitely wouldn't need to talk to someone about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mage-dar

Over the years, Grif had mastered manipulating things other than dirt and rocks. His repertoire still wasn't great by any means, but it served its purpose. Mainly, magicing his armor on without having to stand. He would also magic his crossbow (a work of art and his weapon of choice, with an incredible fire power and a nice stabby bit at the end) a touch lighter. Who said mages couldn't use magic to make fighting with weapons easier rather than as a weapon itself? Either way, it made getting up in the morning a hell of a lot easier.

With the morning meeting over, Sarge had exited to check out the supposed catapult the blue team had received the day previous, Simmons trailing after him, leaving just Grif and Donut. The two were in blessed silence for a moment, but Donut interrupted it.

"So, you're a mage, right?"

Grif nearly spit out his mini frozen cinnamon roll--the closest thing he could get to the larger frozen cinnamon rolls back home from all the way out in Blood Gulch. He recovered (barely) and swallowed.

"How the hell do you figure that?" he finally asked.

"Oh, I kind of have a mage-dar about these things. So... Give me all the juicy gossip! Does Simmons know?"

"I never said I was a mage! And why would Simmons know?"

Donut smiled and leaned against the wall, hands locked behind his head.

“Well  _ someone _ here knows, right? Surely you have someone to talk to. And you and Simmons are practically attached at the hip, so I kind of figured it'd be him.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t. And we are not ‘attached at the hip.’”

“Sure. You can be apart.”

“Of course we can, it’s not like--”

“When he’s chasing after Sarge like a puppy.”

Grif glared at him. He, much like a certain brand of mead, did not glare often, but when he did, he could cause headaches and vomiting. However, Donut seemed unaffected, still smiling, still leaning.

“If Simmons doesn’t know, you can always talk to me.”

“Sure. Don’t think I don’t know you’ll run to Sarge the moment I actually say that I’m a mage.”

Donut paused, then replied, “Well, you just said it. I don’t think I’m running.”

“That’s not I… ugh. Nevermind. So what do I need to say to get you to leave?”

“Just talk to me. Come on. Doesn’t it suck never being able to talk about it?”

“I can talk about it.”

“Yeah? To who?”

Grif stuffed the remainder of the roll into his mouth before grumbling, “My sister.”

“Your sister… who’s not here?”

“...Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m going to help you out here.”

Donut pushed off the wall and cleared his throat. He placed his hands on his hips in a generically heroic pose before declaring, “I, Franklin Delano Donut, am a mage of the Force school and a member of Apostates Anonymous. Now you go.”

“You’re a Force mage?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I figured you for a Creation kind of guy.”

“Peer pressure goes a long way. ‘Sides, if I were Creation, I’d be a medic.”

“They let mages be medics?”

“Well, not  _ officially _ .”

“What do you--”

“We’re off topic! Now, Grif, you go.”

Grif rolled his eyes and copied Donut’s pose.

“I, Dexter Grif,” he begun in a monotone voice, “am a mage of the… um. Dirt school.”

It was the Primal school. He knew it was the Primal school, he just liked pretending he didn’t. It made him feel a bit better about never studying his particular brand of magic.

“Oh, man, you’re in the Primal school? That’s so cool. I always thought that if I wasn’t a Force mage, I’d be a Primal mage.”

“Uh huh, sure, I think I’d rather be with Sarge? Right now? So uh…”

“You come back here. Now, I'm unofficially in charge of human resources, so--”

“‘Human’ resources? Isn't that a bit racist?”

“ _ So _ , it's my job to keep you guys happy. I believe that if you don't have anyone to talk to about being a mage, you won't be happy! So if you ever need to talk, I'm right here.”

“Yeah, yeah. That's great. Can I leave now?”

“Sure. Go on. But you'll be back.”

Grif kept his eye on Donut as he slowly backed out of the door, only turning to speed walk (running was against his religion, as he always told Sarge) when he was a safe distance away.

“He'll be back,” Donut repeated with a smirk and a nod.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
